The Point of No Return
by decemberellia
Summary: Blair agrees to marry Nate. There's just one problem—and his name is Chuck Bass. Chuck decides to take matters into his own hands in this story of hidden motives, secrecy, emotional roller coasters, and the inevitable triumph of true love. Chuck/Blair.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or its characters, nor do I own the Phantom of the Opera. This is too bad for me, because owning such awesomeness would be _beyond_ awesome!

**Setting/Spoilers:** At the time in which this story takes place, pretty much everything that has happened so far on GG has happened, except they have not yet graduated and neither Chuck nor Blair has said ILY.

**Summary: **_The games we've played 'til now are at an end:_ Blair agrees to marry Nate. There's just one problem—and his name is Chuck Bass. Chuck decides to take matters into his own hands in this story of hidden motives, secrecy, emotional roller coasters, and the inevitable triumph of true love. This is a Chair story, not NB!

**A/N: **This is my very first fan fic! Reviews would be really, extremely appreciated. Thanks to EVERYONE who takes the time to read this!

**

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The Point of No Return

_No backward glances,_

_The games we've played 'til now are at an end—_

_Past all thought of if or when,_

_No use resisting;_

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend_

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

* * *

**~ chapter 1 ~**

_

* * *

_

"Chuck, we need to talk."

Blair looked earnestly at Chuck. She was standing in the doorway of his room, alone. Serena, Eric, and Lily had just left for a party, which, coincidentally, Chuck had been on his way to attend before a certain lovely brunette showed up at his door.

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

"But of course." He ushered her inside and she seated herself primly upon his bed. Chuck settled down next to her. Blair finished smoothing out the folds of her dress before she began to speak.

"Like I said, Chuck, we need to talk."

There was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite place… What was it? He didn't—no, wait a moment. He was Chuck Bass, and Chuck Bass did not waste his time puzzling over women's emotions. So, instead, he replied with his trademark smirk.

"Sure, Waldorf, you'd like to _talk_."

His smooth voice caressed the word until what had been an innocent statement had been transformed into a dirty proposition.

A blush crept across her face. Chuck took secret pleasure in knowing that he had put it there.

"You know that's not what I meant!" she protested, though she really had no idea what that twisted mind of his was thinking of. Nevertheless, she did not need to know _what_ he was thinking about to know that she did not like it.

"Oh, really, I do, Waldorf?" There was that smirk again, and this time it sent Blair over the edge. Determined to command his full attention, she grabbed his face with both hands, directing his gaze right into her own.

There it was again, he thought. The something that wasn't quite right.

She took a deep breath.

"Chuck, I–"

It was that moment that he became acutely aware of something pressing into his face. Not Blair's tiny fingers, but something cool, hard, smooth.

Metallic.

Chuck snatched her hand from his face and held it out in front of him, her fingers splayed.

A ring.

What?!

Chuck stared at Blair, accusing, questioning, and confused beyond belief. Blair's eyes were glistening, and he saw her blink furiously to hold back tears.

"I didn't want to break it to you this way, but–"

"Spit it out, Waldorf." Chuck's voice was one step up from a growl, clipped and cold. He could barely recognize the sound coming out of his mouth.

She cast her eyes down before looking up at him, silently begging him for something. But, as always, he had no clue as to _what_.

"Chuck, Nate and I are getting married," she whispered.

"WHAT?"

The words slipped out in a roar before he could stop them, his composure instantly vanished. Thoughts were racing through his head so fast he couldn't see anything, focus on anything—except her face and the contour of her lips as they shaped those awful words:

"_Chuck, Nate and I are getting married_."

"_Chuck, Nate and I are getting married_."

He was drowning in the cacophony, in the sea of images and overwhelming emotions. Blair was supposed to be in love with HIM!

But in a split-second, the confusion and muddled-up imagery were gone, leaving only a collected, poised gentleman who showed no trace of emotion.

"Congratulations," he forced out finally. "What…_wonderful_ news, Miss Waldorf." Of course, he didn't mean a word of it, but that didn't show through his steely tone.

Blair's face fell. This wasn't how she had expected him to react at all! She was banking on a snide comment at least, and maybe an attempt to win her over or change her mind. But Chuck was a mystery as always. Maybe it was all for the better that she had chosen Nate.

She crossed her arms and tried to pull herself back together.

Chuck couldn't help but notice the change that descended swiftly upon her face. All traces of vulnerability were gone, and Blair looked determined to block him out. This was not a good sign. He'd dealt with her enough before to know that much.

Attempting to salvage the situation, he racked his brain and offered up what he hoped was a polite and interested comment.

"When's the wedding?"

This time, his voice was softer and carried a note of sincerity. Blair was skeptical, since, after all, she was talking to Chuck Bass, but something in his expression won her over. Could it be that he was genuinely interested? Was he _happy_ for her? Something about that idea angered her strangely, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.

"Three months."

"So soon?"

"Sooner if we can get the band, the caterer, and the venue lined up."

"But why the rush?"

His eyes were pointedly directed towards her abdomen. She blushed furiously.

"If that's your way of asking, Bass, I'm _not_ pregnant!"

"Good."

This angered her.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Oops. He had been trying to stay on her good side.

"I just, um–"

Chuck was at a loss for words. How was he supposed to tell his former best friend's fiancée that he was in love with her, right after she had announced her engagement?

Now, the words spilled out in a rush.

"–never pictured you as the type that would, uh, enjoy pregnancy or motherhood."

That was a lie. He _had_ pictured her enjoying motherhood, but not to a Baby Archibald. It was a Bass, always a Bass, growing inside of her as she smiled at him with a look of pure adoration. But he couldn't admit that, either.

"How_ dare_ you say that to me?! I love kids! Kids love me! I'd be a great mother! Suck on THAT, Bass! You make me SO angry sometimes…and I'm NOT EVEN PREGNANT!"

Blair was yelling now, beating her fists against his chest. He cringed. He had screwed everything up again.

They sat there for a moment, Chuck staunch and resolute, Blair with tears dripping from her eyes, heaving after all of the shouting and fist-pounding that she had just done.

Finally, Blair reached up, wiped the tears from her eyes, and spoke so quietly that he could barely hear her.

"Chuck? I didn't come here just to tell you about the engagement. There's something I have to ask of you. I know you, and that devilish mind of yours is probably coming up with a scheme, even as I speak, to get the wedding canceled."

All he could do was look at her in shock. Blair could always read him like a book. He _had_ been in the midst of brainstorming an idea. This one, so far, involved ninjas, a wrecking ball, and, of course, a limo, but he was still working on it.

Blair glanced at him with the barest hint of a smile. That was her Chuck, alright, always scheming, and acting just like a little boy when he was caught–wait! He wasn't her Chuck anymore. She was Nate's, and Chuck could belong to anyone he wanted to. Probably five or six of them at the same time, too! Blair unconsciously started to clench her fists at the thought of Chuck with another woman before realizing her mistake. She had to pull herself together!

"Chuck, I need you to stay out of things. Please understand how much this means to me, and to Nate! He used to be your best friend! Doesn't that matter for anything?" She had moved closer to him, dangerously close.

"Chuck? For me?"

She raised one hand and ran her fingers through his hair. It was so intimate, so compelling, that Chuck couldn't possibly refuse her. Sometimes it just wasn't fair how she could manipulate him.

He gulped.

"Of course, Blair. I wouldn't dream of ruining your special day."

"Good," she breathed, before slowly pulling away. Chuck was left feeling intoxicated, as though they had just kissed. But they hadn't, and they couldn't, because Blair was no longer his.

She started to stand, as if to make her way out, her glossy curls swishing around her shoulders. Suddenly, the thought of her leaving was unbearable to Chuck. He quickly tossed out a question, anything to make her stay.

"So, how did you two get together? I mean, how did he, uh, propose?"

It was a pathetic question and he knew it. Chuck Bass, of all people, was not at all interested in any of that romantic, mushy-gushy stuff, and he most _definitely_ did not want to hear about how "magical" and "wonderful" Nate was, and how she "couldn't help" but agree to marry him. Nate had always been Prince Charming in Blair's eyes, and Chuck knew it. He was setting himself up for inevitable pain. But, then again, there _was _a part of him that was almost morbidly curious, and a part of him that wanted to check out the competition.

He mentally kicked himself. Nate was not "competition," he was the victor: Blair's almost-husband. Her one-and-only.

But there, again, was Blair's ghost of a smile, and she settled back down on his bed and started to speak.

"It was all very…sudden," she began, twisting the giant diamond around her finger. "We were both minding our own business, were _purely platonic_, until, one day, out of the blue, he pulled out a ring. I was so surprised! And while I was thinking over my answer, he launched into this huge speech about how he's been in love with me ever since we were little, and even as we dated other people, I was the only one that he could think about."

Chuck winced. It was painful to listen to Blair go on and on about Nate. And it was so convenient how there was no mention of his little escapade with Serena.

"And, to be honest," Blair continued, "I was going to tell him no."

What? Did she really just say—no, he was hallucinating. But wait, she was continuing, unaware of his silent interruption.

"After all he…did to me, and because of the fact that we're both still in high school, for crying out loud, I _had_ to turn him down. But he looked so pitiful, so utterly open and vulnerable, as he was kneeling at my feet, that I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him no.

"So I took the ring, I painted a pretty smile on my face, and I pretended that being Mrs. Archibald made me the happiest girl in the world. And when I was little, being the future Mrs. Archibald _was_ all I wanted in life. 'Be careful what you wish for,' they always say. Well, I wasn't careful. I was young, I was naïve, I was _stupid_, and I made a decision that I'll probably regret for the rest of my life."

Blair wasn't even attempting to hold back her tears. They were falling thick and fast, dripping off of her cheeks and chin.

"Oh, Chuck, what have I _done_?"

She threw herself into his arms, still sobbing uncontrollably.

Chuck tentatively patted her on the shoulders. He opened his mouth to tell Blair that it was going to be alright, to be reassuring, but he was choked up and unable to speak. All he could do was continue to hold her and rock back and forth until her sobbing quieted.

Blair looked up at him through eyelashes matted with tears. She hiccupped, and in between sobs managed to force out:

"The truth is– th– the truth is that I don't even lo–LOVE him!"

Chuck froze. Blair was looking up at him like she expected him to _do _something! But despite all of his bravado and cockiness, he was really just as lost and helpless as her.

He swallowed.

"Blair?" His voice was gentle for once, and he could feel her heaving body start to relax.

"I think that the only thing that you can do is call off the wedding."

His voice was still soft, apologetic even, but he felt Blair stiffen. She pulled back and glared at him.

"Of _course_ that's what you would say! You've had your own sick motives at heart all along. Here I thought that you were listening because you actually _cared_, but I see now that it was all just about _you_—you exploiting my weaknesses so you could _get some_!"

These unwarranted words hit Chuck like a slap across the face.

"That's not true at all! Blair, would you _listen_ to me?"

"What was I _thinking_, pouring my heart out to you like that? I should've known that you would just use it as ammunition against me! You'll try and break me and Nate apart, I know you will! Well, guess what, Chuck. It's not going to work, because I take back everything I said earlier. I LOVE Nate, and the only stupid decision I made was not breaking off things with _you _sooner!"

She paused to catch her breath, and accidentally caught a glimpse of Chuck. Her vitriolic words had burned through his iron mask, leaving hurt painfully exposed upon his face. Blair clapped her hands over her mouth, aghast at what she had just let loose. What was wrong with her? Besides Serena, who never really understood Blair's problems anyway, Chuck was one of the only friends she had left. She needed to fix things. Fast.

Blair took another deep breath to steady herself.

"Chuck?" she ventured, her voice quavering. Okay, so obviously her attempts at self composure had failed. "Do you hate me now? I would totally understand if you hate me. I mean, I would hate me if I were you and I kept saying such horrible things that I didn't mean. I'm so sorry, Chuck! I'm such an awful person!" Great, now she was babbling, and on top of that, she was being pathetically melodramatic. Well, it was better than screaming, she supposed. What was it about Chuck Bass that prevented her from ever being even halfway coherent around him? Wait, was Chuck laughing at her? He was, wasn't he? He was smiling at her, no, smirking was a better word, and…

But then she was at a loss for words, mesmerized by Chuck's eyes. Chuck's eyes, which were staring directly into her own. Oh, how she had missed those eyes, those mischievous, confident, smoldering eyes. Nate had beautiful eyes, it was true, but they lacked dimension. They were dull, flat, and like his looks, generic. But _these_ eyes, the eyes staring into her own, reflected a person very much alive, very much like herself—and the expression that they held was unmistakable.

Chuck moved closer, daring her to challenge him, to stop him in his tracks. Blair's eyes widened almost imperceptibly and her pulse quickened. What was he trying to do?

Taking her silence as a sign, Chuck continued forward. Now their foreheads were almost touching, but he didn't stop there. His mouth was coming closer and closer to hers and she closed her eyes in anticipation.

But nothing followed. No fireworks, no passionate embrace, because Chuck had pulled back and was grinning at her rakishly.

"Hey!" she protested stupidly. "That's not fair!"

He chuckled.

"Really, Waldorf, do try and contain yourself! For an almost-married woman, you sure play it fast and loose!"

Blair blushed, mortified. It was just another one of his games, but she had taken the bait. Again.

"Oh, but that's right. You're not in love with your fiancé! But cheating's still cheating, no matter what you call it—or how devastatingly handsome the object of your affections is! And I, for one, will not be helping you in your attempt to give Mr. Archibald a taste of his own medicine."

"Chuck," she suddenly interrupted. "I can't do it. I can't marry Nate."

He looked at her, incredulous. To say that Blair Waldorf certainly never ceased to surprise would be an understatement.

"I can't marry Nate," she continued, "but I can't NOT marry him, not after he proposed and I said yes! It would cause a scandal, and the last thing that the Waldorfs need is to be involved in another scandal. I can't break it off, Chuck.

"I don't have it in me."

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**A/N: **Thank you so much for taking the time to read my first fan fic! I hope you enjoyed it. Any sort of feedback is tremendously appreciated. On to the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or its characters, nor do I own the Phantom of the Opera [used in quotes.]

**A/N: **This is chapter 2 of my very first fan fic! Reviews would be really, extremely appreciated. Thanks to EVERYONE who takes the time to read this!

* * *

**The Point of No Return**

_One final question—_

_How long should we two wait before we're one?_

* * *

**~chapter 2~**

* * *

In one fluid motion, Chuck Bass flipped open his cell phone and held it up to his ear.

"Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Um, hi, Chuck. I just was wondering how you were dealing with the _news_."

"What news?" he replied absentmindedly, staring out the window as his limo drove through the streets of Manhattan.

"Oh, you know," she answered conspiratorially. "Blair and Nate! I mean, now that everyone knows, and you and Blair have _history_, if you know what I'm saying–"

"Wait," he interrupted. 'What do you mean, everyone knows? When I talked to Blair last night she acted like they hadn't really told anybody yet."

"Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry! You didn't know!" she answered in a pitying tone of voice that Chuck did _not_ appreciate. "They sent out the invitations today. And so–"

He cut her off yet again.

"The invitations? I don't recall seeing one, and I already went through all of today's mail."

"Yeah, well, about that..." Serena trailed off.

"Are you trying to tell me that she didn't invite us to the wedding? I guess she wasn't kidding, then. But why leave you, Lily, and Eric out? You've always been so close. It seems a little spiteful to not include you just because you live in the same apartment as me."

"I know, Chuck, and that's what I've been trying to tell you—how do I say this?" She sounded embarrassed. Suddenly, Chuck felt very uneasy.

"Um, so, Blair hand-delivered an invitation to me during breakfast. 'Cause, you know, we went to that little place on 62nd, with the great croissants. What's it called again? I just can't remember for the life of me! You've been there, right, with the really good coffee?"

"Serena," Chuck warned.

"Oh, right. Sorry. So, she gave me the invitation, which was very fancy by the way. Really nice, heavy paper, with that fancy silver embossing...And I'm going off on a tangent again. But, Chuck, the invitation was for me, Eric, and Lily. Not you."

"Then I expect that she will be hand-delivering mine as well."

"Actually, she made it quite clear that you would _not_ be receiving an invitation. She wanted me to tell that to you, well, not that exactly. Her actual words were much more colorful. She was very angry, you see. Apparently at something you said last night–"

Chuck sighed and snapped his phone shut.

"There's been a change of plans. Turn around. We're going to the Waldorf penthouse."

* * *

When Chuck strode into the Waldorf apartment, he found Blair sitting at the head of the dining room table, surrounded by a sea of flowers in every color that he could imagine and several colors that he couldn't. Unaware that Chuck had just entered the room, she was barking orders at Dorota.

"PEONIES? You've got to be kidding me! That entire arrangement is just ghastly. And how many times do I have to tell you that orange flowers clash with our color scheme?"

"You've got a point there." Blair looked up, startled. "Dorota, how about that arrangement over there, with the pink and white lilies?"

Dorota obligingly brought the vase over and held it out to Blair for inspection. The flowers were beautiful, she grudgingly admitted to herself, with a certain quiet elegance that was very suitable for a wedding.

"Set those aside, Dorota," she said nonchalantly, wanting Chuck to believe that the flowers had made no impression on her. "We'll continue looking at the rest."

"You insult me, Waldorf," he smirked at her. "Not only do you refuse to acknowledge my existence, you deny my fantastic eye for floral arrangements."

She sighed and turned to face him.

"Look, I didn't invite you for a reason, okay? It's _my_ wedding, and all you need to know is that I don't want you there. As far as I'm concerned, last night never happened, and that's all I'm going to say to you. So if you're quite finished, please leave my apartment so I can plan my wedding in peace."

"Harsh words! It's delightful to see how much you care about me, Waldorf."

"Scram."

"Why?"

"You're not getting an invitation. So, goodbye."

"I don't want an invitation."

"Really," remarked Blair, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then why are you here, in my apartment, antagonizing me?"

"I don't want an invitation—to a wedding that won't be taking place."

"Are you insinuating that–"

"Rest assured, fair damsel, Agent Bass is on the case."

"Would you shut up? What are you trying to say about my wedding?"

He raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"I'm only trying to do you a favor. After all that you said last night..."

"Last night didn't happen, remember?" she hissed. "And as such, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Dorota, will you show Mr. Bass the door?"

"I'm perfectly capable of finding the door on my own, Blair."

"Well, then, _find_ it. Because this conversation is officially _over_."

He chuckled as he began to walk out. Just before the elevator doors slid shut, he called out, "Is it?" And with that, he was gone.

Blair waited a moment to make sure he wasn't coming back, then took out her phone and called Serena.

"Hey, B! How are you doing with all the flowers?"

"Oh, fine," replied Blair breezily.

"Have you finally decided to give up on handling all of the wedding preparations by yourself? When you were talking about it at breakfast, I figured you would crack eventually, but not this soon. I mean, it's a nice _idea_ to orchestrate your whole wedding personally instead of hiring actual professionals, but it was never going to work."

"It's nice that you have so much faith in me," remarked Blair dryly.

"And since you asked me so nicely, I will offer you the official Serena-van-der-Woodsen-wedding-flowers-opinion: lilies! I love lilies. You can pick the colors–"

"Wow, thanks," interjected Blair. "For my own wedding? Really? How nice of you."

"–but I was thinking pink. And white, duh, because it's a wedding."

"Oh, great. You've been talking to Chuck."

"About flowers? How about _no_! Are you crazy?"

"Well, he—never mind. No, I didn't call about the flowers. The real reason, well, it was something that he said."

"Nate?"

"No. Chuck," Blair replied, as if stating the obvious.

"Oh. Well, what did he say?"

"He said something like, 'Why would I want an invitation to a wedding that won't even happen?'"

"NO!"

"I know!"

"So, you think he's trying to get your wedding _canceled_?"

"Seems that way."

"Why would he do that? This is so weird! All of this crazy stuff has been happening lately, what with—oh, um, never mind. But seriously, why did he say that?"

Blair heard a dull thud of a door slamming shut on the other end of the line.

"He's here!" whispered Serena loudly. "Tell you what—I'll spy on him for you! That would be so much fun, and then we would understand what's going on!"

"_Who_ are you spying on, Serena?" Blair distantly heard Chuck ask. She heard a slight thud from the receiver, as if Serena had covered it with her hand to prevent Blair from listening to their conversation.

"That's none of your business, Chuck," said Serena, though her voice was significantly muted. Blair had the impression of being underwater, listening to people on the surface talk far above her.

"Awfully defensive, aren't we, sis?" countered Chuck. "Who are you even talking to?"

Blair imagined Chuck reaching for Serena's phone, only to have it snatched away at the last minute.

"Blai—uh, I mean, Blaine! My, um, manicurist. And, um, you see, he's gay, and he has this total crush on...on Rufus Humphrey! So he wants me to spy on him."

"Oh, I see!" said Chuck, feigning understanding. "Can I see the phone, then? I'd like to schedule a manicure."

"Oh, Blaine is uh, scared of men. He won't do their nails."

"You just said he was gay."

"Uh, right. What I meant is that Blaine doesn't speak English. He, um, only speaks...French!"

"Which is a language that _you _don't speak."

"Oh."

"Hey, give me that!" Suddenly, Serena's voice sounded crystal clear. Chuck must have grabbed the phone right out of her hands!

"Hello..._Blaine_?"

Blair deepened her voice as much as possible.

"Bonjour!"

"Really, _Serena_? Calling out the big guns, are we, Blair?"

And with that, he hung up.

* * *

Chuck turned and faced Serena.

"Might I suggest that you learn how to lie?"

Serena fumed.

"I had to come up with the story on the spot, _okay_?"

"Excuses, excuses!" he replied, waving his hand dismissively. "But enough about that—what did Blair say to you that warranted you agreeing to _spy_ on me?"

"That you were trying to cancel her wedding," admitted Serena sullenly.

"I see. Did she _also_ tell you about how she wishes she hadn't agreed to marry Nate because she doesn't want to, but since she agreed she feels obligated to follow through in fear of causing a scandal?"

Serena gaped at him in shock.

"I'll take that as a no, then."

"No, she didn't say anything about that! But why would she tell _you_?"

"It must be my stunning good looks and my likable charm."

"I'm going to ignore that comment. But seriously! I thought she really loved Nate this time!"

"Well, she told me last night that she most definitely doesn't."

"Oh god. This changes things."

"How so? What's that supposed to mean?"

"He asked me not to tell anyone, you know. That's why I didn't say anything before."

"Wait, who? What?"

"Chuck, before I tell you, you have to _promise_ not to say _anything_ to _anyone_. Especially Blair."

"Do you realize that you sound like a cheesy horror movie? Yes, I swear. Now would you please get to the point?"

"Three days ago," continued Serena seriously, "Nate Archibald proposed to Blair Waldorf. She accepted. He insisted on having the wedding as soon as possible—three months from now."

"Yes," interrupted Chuck, "But everyone already knows that!"

Serena smiled wanly. "Right. But what everyone _doesn't_ know is that three days ago, one hour before he showed up on Blair's doorstep, Nate Archibald proposed to Serena van der Woodsen. But I said no."

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to anyone who read/reviewed/glanced at this story. I really surprised myself at how fast I was able to get this chapter up! It might take a while for the next one, though, which may or may not be the last chapter. Please review! I *love* your feedback! Thanks. :D

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl or its characters, nor do I own the Phantom of the Opera [used in quotes.]

**A/N: **This is chapter 3 of my very first fan fic! Reviews are always really, extremely appreciated. Thanks to EVERYONE who takes the time to read this!

After this, there's one more chapter and then a really short epilogue. I'm very surprised again at how fast I got this up!

* * *

**The Point of No Return**

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames, at last, consume us?_

* * *

**~chapter 3~**

* * *

It had been three months.

Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true. But it might as well be. The wedding was in two days. He had only _two days_ to do something. The problem was that he had no idea _what_.

It was 3 AM and he couldn't sleep. Like that was something new! It had been three months since Chuck Bass had actually slept through the entire night. Every night, the madness repeated. His mind would be spinning, searching desperately for ideas, frantically for inspiration, depriving him of blissful unconsciousness.

He glanced at the clock. It was time to take matters into his own hands.

Chuck slipped out of bed, donned a maroon silk robe, and walked silently to the apartment door. There he realized that, it being three o'clock in the morning, his limo driver was at home, sleeping like a normal person. That was an unexpected obstacle. Chuck crept back to his room and got out the spare set of keys that he had always had but never used. Actually, he had never driven a car before, because, in the past, there had always been someone to take him where he wanted to go. But not tonight.

It was strangely disorienting to sit in the driver's seat of the limo, with conflicting feelings of familiarity and foreignness. He took a moment to examine the controls. There were seemingly hundreds of buttons, switches, and levers, all unlabeled, of course. He made a mental note to give his driver a pay raise.

After a moment, he found the ignition and turned the key. Now the car was on, but what was next? Oh, right. The gas. He floored it and the limo took off jerkily.

After a few turns that required impressive amounts of wheel-twisting, Chuck found himself on a relatively empty stretch of road. He smiled. It was exhilarating to drive alone through the darkness. The night took on a sort of magical, mysterious feel. He wondered why he didn't do this more often!

Chuck discovered why a few moments later when his attempt to park resulted in a crushed front bumper and a no-longer-perpendicular streetlight. Besides, he thought to himself, there were certain...things that you could do in a limo, but not while you were driving. He chuckled as his strode down the sidewalk. The early morning air was cool yet pleasant—the perfect conditions for a bit of detective work.

It was a cinch to break in, since the Archibalds, as always, kept their key in a potted plant outside the door. They didn't even have an alarm! He tiptoed down the hall until he reached Nate's room. The door swung open silently. Nate was sprawled on his bed, snoring like a chainsaw.

Chuck smiled. Nate had always been an extremely heavy sleeper—this would be a piece of cake.

He started to walk towards Nate's computer, but suddenly tripped. Chuck barely managed to catch himself before he fell. What was—oh. It was a pile of Nate's clothes. He couldn't afford to trip again, for fear of awakening Nate, but the room was to dark for him to see anything! He needed some sort of light source, something that was small and not too bright...his cell phone!

Chuck held out his phone and the backlight illuminated the ground before him. Nathaniel was such a slob! There were piles of junk everywhere. Carefully watching his step, he soon made it over to the computer and shook the mouse. The computer came to life, displaying Nate's email inbox. Really, this was too easy!

Triumph quickly turned to disappointment as he scanned over Nate's emails and found nothing even slightly suspicious. Nate had an ulterior motive for proposing to two girls on the same night, Chuck was sure. What he desperately needed was proof.

Chuck was getting frustrated, fast. He had gone through all of Nate's computer files _and _every drawer in his room, and it was getting close to 3:40. Chuck took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. If Nathaniel had something incriminating in his possession, where would he hide it?

In a flash, the answer came to him. Of course! He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Chuck strode over to the general location that his memory had pointed out to him. He kicked away a pile of rumpled dress shirts and knelt to examine the floor boards. He pressed each in turn firmly but gently, the way Nate had shown him when they were twelve years old. Finally, he found the right board and it lifted up to show what lay hidden beneath. When they were twelve, this had been Sports Illustrated swimsuit editions. Now, it had been used for a very different purpose.

Chuck reached into the small space beneath the floorboards. The first thing he pulled out was a small vial of white powder. Cocaine. That was funny, thought Chuck. Pot had always been Nate's drug of choice. He sat it aside and reached in again.

The next item that he pulled out was a folded piece of paper. He opened it, smoothed out some of the wrinkles, and began to read.

_A mortgage foreclosure case has been started against you by your mortgage lender, It is important that you do not ignore this notice or any court papers that you receive or __**you may lose your home.**__ You are entitled, by law, to a court conference with your lender to see if you may resolve the issue. You have __**no more than 100 days to schedule a conference from the date you receive this letter.**_

Finally, he had found evidence! Nate's family was in danger of foreclosure? That gave him a motive: he needed money. But simply a notice of foreclosure was not enough to prove anything against Nate. Just because he was poor didn't mean he wasn't allowed to get married. Nevertheless, Chuck refolded the paper and tucked it inside the pocket of his robe.

It was that moment that his phone began to chirp and whistle noisily. He cursed. Who was texting him at this hour? Chuck tossed the vial back under the floorboards, slammed the board back into place, and ran out of the room. He ran all the way to the limo, climbed in, and locked the door, breathing heavily. That was close. The next time he snooped around in someone's bedroom, he had to be a whole lot more careful. Step one of this plan was turning his phone on silent. How had he been so stupid?

Chuck watched the Archibalds' windows, his heart beating like a jackhammer. None of the lights were on. He had barely escaped detection! He smiled shakily to himself.

Who had even texted him? Chuck got out his phone and checked.

_Hawt partay at cielios! This place is off da hook! wanna come buy me a drank? _

It was from someone named Dani. Chuck didn't even _know_ anyone named Dani! He vowed to never give his number to hookers again. She had almost blown his cover!

He started up the limo and drove back home. All of a sudden, the late hour caught up with Chuck and he felt extremely tired. For the first time in months, he fell asleep within minutes of collapsing on his bed.

* * *

By the time Chuck awoke the next morning, sunlight was streaming through his window. It was already noon. He swore. Now he had less than thirty six hours to stop the wedding! He had a lead, but it wasn't much. He could tell Blair, of course, but she would probably refuse to listen or assault him or something. No, it was better to not tell Blair, but she was the only one with the information that he needed.

Wait—not the only one. There was someone else who he could ask, someone who knew _everything_ about Blair, someone who would be willing to give him an answer. Dorota.

Feeling very impressed with himself, he called Dorota.

"Cześć!" she answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hello, Dorota. It's Chuck Bass."

"Hello, Meester Chuck! How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. You certainly sound happy to hear from me."

"Eet's Mees Blair," she confided in him. "She ees not happy with Meester Nate. She like you better. So, if makes Mees Blair happy, makes me happy!"

"I see," said Chuck, smiling. "Then I think that you would not be opposed to helping me out here?"

"With what?" Dorota asked suspiciously.

Chuck quickly filled her in on his discovery and the plan that he was just beginning to formulate.

"I'll go get my sunglasses!" she exclaimed when he had finished.

* * *

Chuck was standing by the fountain in Central Park at one o'clock sharp, as promised, when he saw Dorota out of the corner of his eye. True to her word, she was wearing large black sunglasses and a long black coat. She walked over to him, looking purposefully in a different direction the whole time. Behind her back, she passed him a large file folder.

"Thank you," he said, taking the folder.

Dorota nodded gravely, still refusing to make eye contact, and walked away. The mission had been successful.

* * *

Chuck was sitting on his bed, examining the contents of the folder Dorota had given him.

_ANTENUPTIAL AGREEMENT:_

_Agreement made this 22 day of May, 2009, by and between Blair Waldorf and Nate Archibald._

_WHEREAS: _

_The parties to this Agreement intend to be married to each other; they believe this Agreement will enhance and encourage a harmonious marital relationship between them and will enable them to avoid any conflict or controversy in the future out of any dissolution of the marriage. _

It was Blair and Nate's prenup, which Dorota had obligingly taken and copied for Chuck. The problem was that it seemed to be an entirely normal agreement. If Blair left Nate, then she would have no access to his assets, and if he left her, she would retain all of her assets. The problem was, it looked like the prenup of _two _wealthy New Yorkers, not one in danger of foreclosure and another in no financial trouble at all. The only conclusion that he could draw from the agreement was that Nate hadn't told Blair about his financial situation, nor was he planning to.

He threw the file to the ground in disgust. He had run out of ideas of what to do next. He might as well just give up. He knew what Nate was up to, but the problem was that, so far, Nate had done nothing that was punishable by law.

His phone rang. It was Nate. Speak of the devil.

"Hey, man!" said Nate cheerily.

"What do you want from me?" asked Chuck listlessly.

"Nothing, man. I was just calling to make sure you were coming to the reception. You know, 'cause you didn't RSVP."

"I was invited?"

"Of course! Not to the actual ceremony, but to the reception. Blair and I are both counting on seeing you there."

"Really," he commented sarcastically, "because that's just the impression that Blair gave me the last time we spoke, which was, let me see, _three months ago_."

"No, really, we do want you to come. It's such a big occasion and it wouldn't feel right without you there."

"Fine, Nathaniel, if you insist. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of something. Goodbye." He hung up and fell backwards on to his bed. Nate had some nerve, asking him to the reception but not the wedding of a girl that Nate was probably all too well aware that Chuck was in love with.

Wait—all too well aware! Nate _must've_ been aware that someone broke into his house last night. Chuck had taken his foreclosure notice, for crying out loud! And Nate _must've_ figured out that it was Chuck, because no one else knew about the secret space under the floor! Nate MUST have known all of this, yet he sounded so cheerful on the phone. So it was all an act! ...But why would Nate go out of his way to be nice to Chuck and insist he come to the reception if he knew that Chuck knew, and that Chuck _stole _from him? It didn't add up. None of it did—it all seemed random and unrelated. But there had to be an underlying motive, a reason for the madness...

Suddenly it all made sense to Chuck. He understood Nate's master plan! He finally had a plan of action...but there were two things he had to do first.

* * *

**A/N: **How do you like it so far? I know exactly where this is going (finally!) and so I'm guessing ch. 4 will be up pretty soon! And the aforementioned epilogue, which is already done :] I've had to do quite a bit of research for this chapter, and I hope it helps the believability.

Also, thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed The Adventure. Your lovely comments really made my day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, boo hoo.

**A/N: **This is the final full-length chapter of my very first fic! There's a teeny epilogue that I'll post about 10 seconds after I get this up. Please be warned: This gets a little crazy. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**The Point of No Return**

_The final threshold_

_The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn:_

_We've passed the point of no return.__  
_

* * *

**~chapter 4~**

* * *

The day of the wedding had finally arrived.

Of course, that was only if you were being technical. Most people did not consider 1:17 AM to be anything but the middle of the night. Actually, most people were too busy sleeping to quibble about dates and time. But once again, Chuck Bass was a man on a mission.

Tonight, he had opted for a cab instead of taking the limo, which was in the shop. He had had to field off seemingly thousands of questions from Lily, who suspected that he knew something that he wasn't letting on. He had professed innocence and stuck to his story: someone must've crashed into it in the middle of the night. That wasn't entirely false, if you counted a streetlight as a someone. Lily was by no means gullible, but, after all, it was Chuck's limo and he was an adult.

Now, he found himself in a cab. Raúl's cab, according to the nameplate in front of him. And Raúl's cab was not very nice as cabs go. It was old, dilapidated, and grimy, and Raúl himself had only ten teeth.

As a getaway car, however, it was very suitable indeed. Raúl, it seemed, was in no way morally opposed to accepting bribes. In fact, it seemed as though Raúl was not morally opposed to anything at all from the way he carried on.

Chuck tuned him out until the cab pulled over. Another benefit could be added to the list: Raúl knew how to park!

Chuck handed him a crisp hundred dollar bill.

"10 more Benjamins say that you'll be waiting here when I get back, you'll take me home as fast as possible, and you'll conveniently forget who I am, where I'm from, and where I went."

Raúl nodded and grinned toothily—well, as toothily as someone can when they can count the number of teeth they have on their hands. Money was a language that everyone could understand. He loved these young billionaire types—not that he'd ever encountered one before.

Chuck strode down the sidewalk once more. This should be even easier than last night's operation. Nate was out at his bachelor party, and if he came home at all, Chuck knew that it would be dead drunk.

He checked his pocket once more to make sure that he hadn't dropped it. Would Nate be able to discern the difference? Chuck hoped not. There was a lot riding on it.

* * *

Chuck woke up the following morning at ten o'clock. Normally, he would've slept in, but the wedding was in less than eight hours. Besides, there was a certain store that opened at ten o'clock that he planned to visit.

He imagined what Blair would be doing right now. She was probably at some sort of spa, getting primped and pampered for the big day. What did her dress look like? He had no idea, and for some reason, that irked him.

Chuck absentmindedly got out his phone and called her. He could ask her—wait, what was he _doing_?! Was he insane? He quickly ended the call, but the damage had been done. When Blair looked at her phone next, it would invariably say: _1 Missed Call: Chuck_. Or would it say _Mother Chucker_? Or _Bane of My Existence_? And the most important question: what would Blair do? Would she delete the record and laugh about it with her friends? Would she call him back? What would he say? He had no idea.

When the cleaning lady came into Chuck's room later that day, she found his phone smashed to smithereens in the bathtub. She clucked her tongue in disapproval. Those spoiled rich kids.

She swept the remnants into a dustpan and threw them into the garbage. As such, no one realized that the phone, while mutilated beyond recognition, still had enough circuitry intact to ring when Blair called him a few hours later.

* * *

Blair Waldorf was freaking out. She had heard of cold feet, of pre-wedding jitters before, but what she had read in self-help books and online was of no help. _The time to deal with these feelings is now! _they all proclaimed. So Blair did the only thing she could think of—she called Chuck Bass. She was startled to see that she had one missed call from him, but took it as a good sign.

The phone rang and rang, and rang and rang, but still, no one answered. Eventually, voice mail kicked in.

"_I'm Chuck Bass,_" said the recording. There was a long pause before it said disinterestedly, "_Leave me a message._"

"Hi, Blair, it's Chuck," said Blair nervously. Oh crap, what did she just say? "No, I mean, hi, Chuck, it's Blair. But, um, you probably figured that out already." She laughed fakely. "So, could you call me back?" Wait, Blair Waldorf did not ask. She demanded! "I mean, call me back. It's important." But now it sounded like she was dying or something! "Well, actually, maybe not that important." But what if he didn't call her back now? "I mean, it kind of is. But not, you know, super-important important." This conversation deserved to be shot. "Well, bye," she finished lamely, and hung up.

Now, all she had to do was wait. Great.

Five minutes went by. They felt like five years, and she wasn't being hyperbolic. Blair checked the phone again. Nothing. This was torture. In a way, this was funny, but it was hard for her to appreciate the humor in the situation. Blair Waldorf, waiting for a boy to call her? Not in a million years, she would've said before.

The clock changed. Another minute, and still no call. She sighed. Would it seem desperate to call him back six minutes after her first message? Yes, Blair decided. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Blair Waldorf was more desperatenow than she had ever been before in her life.

She called him again. He didn't answer, so she decided to leave another message.

"Chuck, _call me_. Bye."

That was better. Concise and to the point, but maybe it was too formal? Well, another message couldn't hurt, right? Well, it probably would. What would Chuck think when he checked his phone and saw seventy messages from Blair? Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration.

She called him again. This time, she decided to have a little fun.

"Chuck," she screamed, "you've got to help me! Nate is chasing me with a Taser! I'm too young to dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" She hung up. There was no way that Chuck would be able to ignore a message like that...unless he realized that she was making it up, since, after all, it was pretty obvious. But wouldn't he at least call to check up on her? Blair sighed. Clearly, this was not going anywhere.

Blair grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulders. Chuck was about to get a surprise visitor.

* * *

Chuck was floored when Blair Waldorf walked into his room. He quickly shoved what he was holding behind his back. Of course, she had walked in at the most inopportune moment possible.

"Blair," he acknowledged her, trying not to appear flustered. "Why are you in my room?"

"Well, you didn't answer my calls–" she began, but stopped herself. He looked confused. Obviously, he had not discovered her messages yet, and Blair did not want to encourage him to do so.

"What I meant to say is that, um, I just really needed to talk to you."

"I see," he said stiffly. His arms were contorted strangely, as if he was holding something behind his back.

"What do you have back there?" she asked curiously.

Chuck blanched.

"Nothing!" he blurted. Blair looked skeptical. It was obvious that he was lying.

Chuck thought quickly.

"It's, um, your wedding present. I don't want to spoil the surprise."

Blair smiled and obligingly covered her eyes.

"Okay, you can hide it. I won't peek."

Chuck shoved it under his bed. That was close.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, uh–" she began, embarrassed. Why had she thought that telling Chuck was a good idea? This was mortifying! She continued in a small voice. "I was just freaking out about the wedding is all."

He nodded understandingly.

"And you wanted me to do something about it?"

"I guess," she murmured meekly.

"Well, you're in luck, then, because I happen to have a plan."

"Really?" she looked up. "What do you mean?" Blair was afraid at what sort of plan he might've come up with.

"I can't tell you. Not yet. But here's what you have to do."

* * *

Chuck Bass was seated at once of many round tables draped with cream-colored linen at the Plaza Hotel. The huge room was empty except for him. Apparently, he was the only person who had been invited to the reception but not the wedding. Wasn't he special. He checked the time again. Where were they? Chuck had limited experience with weddings, but he was sure that they weren't supposed to last this long. Once again, he had butterflies in his stomach, but these weren't the nice, lovey-dovey kind that he'd felt before. These butterflies were evil, and they made him want to puke.

Where was everybody?! The wait was agonizing.

Finally, finally, a few people started to trickle in. Thank goodness! The room filled up quickly with people, who began to socialize and compare the wedding to others that they'd been to so far this year. Chuck scanned the room. There was still no sign of the happy couple.

There they were! Blair had changed dresses in favor of a much shorter, off the shoulder gown. She looked stunning, as always. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and adorned with ribbons and flowers. Her lips were ruby red and smiling at her guests.

By some stroke of luck, the newlyweds sat down next to Chuck, with Blair in the middle. He smiled, congratulated her, and told her that she looked beautiful. She blushed and thanked him for coming to the reception. Meanwhile, his eyes asked her silently if she remembered what to do. She nodded almost imperceptibly. It was time.

Chuck had told Blair _what_ to do, but he had not told her why. His only hope was that she followed through unquestioningly, or else everything would be ruined.

A waiter handed him a glass of wine, then moved on to the rest of the table. He took a sip. It was expensive-tasting, but too sweet.

Suddenly, Chuck Bass slumped forward onto the table, his eyes glassy. At the same moment, Blair fell on to her plate as well. The room was thrown into pandemonium.

"What's going on?!" bellowed Nate. He stood up, knocking over his chair. He frantically pressed his fingers to Blair's neck. "She's lost her pulse!" A few ladies in the room shrieked. "Somebody call 911!" he ordered, helping Blair sit up. Her head lolled to one side. "She's dead! Someone has poisoned my wife!" Nate shouted, before breaking into tears.

The room was in a state of chaos. Several women had fainted, and still others had left the room in a panic. Everyone was screaming and crying in shock.

Several men had helped Nate into a chair, where he was sobbing into his hands. Suddenly, he looked up, his eyes rimmed red, and pointed furiously at the two lifeless figures.

"They've committed suicide together! Blair never loved me, and now they killed each other!" His outburst ended in another burst of tears.

The room murmured to itself excitedly. They all knew about Chuck and Blair's history—could what Nate was saying possibly be true? It was all very exciting, and oh so scandalous!

"The squad is almost here!" shouted Lily, who'd been watching out the window. Sure enough, paramedics were running into the building, with two stretchers in tow.

Chuck took that as his cue to sit up. He looked about, confused and disoriented.

Nate looked up and saw Chuck stirring.

"You murderer!" he screamed dementedly. "What, did you not take enough arsenic to die along with her?" Nate began to run at Chuck, fists flailing, but several men restrained him.

"On the contrary," said Chuck calmly. He held up the vial that he had stolen from under Nate's floorboards that morning. "Neither of us took the arsenic trioxide you had intended for our glasses."

Blair decided to sit up at this moment. Nate paled.

"But–how–it was there this morning! I saw it!"

"What you saw was merely sugar."

"You broke into my house?"

"You tried to murder two innocent civilians."

At this moment, the paramedics rushed in the door.

"Where are the victims?" one shouted.

"They're both quite all right, thank you. Just a bit of a scare," replied Chuck. "But, please, don't leave yet. Are any of you qualified to perform an arrest?"

* * *

Nate had just been hauled away to prison, and the guests had mostly packed up and left. Everyone was gossiping. They couldn't believe that such a nice boy could have ever tried to murder someone, and Chuck and Blair's bit of acting had been so dramatic. Needless to say, this wedding would not soon be forgotten.

"Chuck?" asked Blair. "I have something to ask you."

They ducked into a hallway.

"Sure. What is it?"

She slapped him across the face.

"Hey! What was that for, Waldorf?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"You broke your promise. You said you wouldn't mess up my wedding."

"Are you _KIDDING _me?" he questioned, incredulous. "That guy tried to _kill_ you!"

"I know," she said, and kissed him passionately. "And _that_ was for saving my life, Bass."

They kissed for a few moments, before Blair pulled away and said, "This marriage is _so _getting annulled."

Chuck laughed.

"I'm glad to hear you say that."

"Why?" she asked, giggling as well.

"Because the last time I checked, polygamy was still illegal in New York."

He knelt down and held up the ring—the ring that he had tried so hard to hide when she walked in on him, the ring that was the final part of the plan.

"Blair, will you marry me?"

* * *

**A/N: **Oh my gosh, she did not just make Nate an attempted murderer! YES SHE DID! What did you think? Enough plot twists and intrigue??? Please leave a review! :]


	5. Epilogue

* * *

***

* * *

Eleanor and Harold Waldorf  
_are pleased to announce  
__the wedding of their daughter, _

ßlαir Cσrneliα

_to_

Mr. Chαrles ßαrthσlσmew ßαss

_Saturday, the Twenty-Seventh of June  
__Two Thousand and Nine  
__Saint Patrick's Cathedral  
__New York City, New York_

* * *

***

* * *

THE END


End file.
